Lady Macduff
Poor bird! thou’ldst never fear the net nor lime,
The pitfall nor the gin.
Son
Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.
My father is not dead, for all your saying.
Lady Macduff
Yes, he is dead: how wilt thou do for a father?
Son
Nay, how will you do for a husband?
Lady Macduff
Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.
Son
Then you’ll buy ’em to sell again.